


In The Glass

by SubwayWolf



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Bi Seven, He watches MC Jerk off through the camera ok, If Seven can make robots he can make sex toys too, M/M, Male!MC, Milking Machine, Sex Toys, Sex-In-A-Can, Voyeurism, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, consensual voyeurism, sort of, thats what the epilogue meant by toy shop LMAO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8157508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: MC puts on a show for Seven, who watches him through the CCTV feed and likes what he sees. A lot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> im sure this idea has been done like 4 million times already in this fandom but .. i havent seen too many fics with a male MC? and as far as im concerned seven is canon bi, and he's a cool dude, and i love doing his route, and.. man do i wish there was a male mc option in game. not that i'm opposed to zen calling me princess or anything. sometimes boys need to hear that too. :3c
> 
> tmi, but playing this part in seven's route really .. got me excited? like, a lot. so here's super-porny seven stuff because i'm in That mood right now apparently. ( this got SO long it was gonna be like 1k omfg)
> 
> idk, but i might do something zen/jumin in the future as a stress reliever so expect something like that lol

It’s like porn, right? 

It’s like watching a video, staring at a screen, watching an actor or actress do his thing. Turning off the video when you finish, wallowing in self-loathing for a bit, and moving on with your sad, lonely life.

But it’s not like that. There’s no anonymity here.

MC, leaning back in the only chair in the apartment’s, lifts up his shirt for easy access. The camera is just close enough to barely make out the trail of soft brown hair disappearing beneath his pants, and Seven can only dream of what’s beneath and what’s about to happen.

Seven wants to look away. No, really, he does. He has work to do, lots of it, and he should be focusing on that instead of looking at the CCTV feed every few seconds. As far as his relationship with MC goes, Seven wants to maintain a level of professionalism and keep going with this just-friends dynamic. 

Okay, maybe that isn’t true. At all. 

He’s been lusting over MC since he first showed up in the messenger, and it isn’t true that he only found one picture of the guy, no, he’s found tons of them across social media and in his phone. With the amount of selfies he takes, you’d think he’s Zen. Most of them are bad, some of them are with friends, some of them are with his cat. Yeah, he has a cat, as if he couldn’t get any more perfect.

MC isn’t the first guy Seven has crushed really hard on. He probably won’t be the last, either, but he is different in a way. He’s different because the more Seven interacts with him, the more he hears his voice, the more he watches him, the madder he gets. 

And he’s mad as in _angry_ because, what the fuck, it’s only been a few days since he’s met the guy and he’s already feeling his heart run rampant, like it’s beehive that MC gave a nice, hard kick to. But he’s also mad as in _crazy_ , the head-over-heels kind, because MC is really, really so sweet and hilarious and fucking gorgeous and honestly, Seven feels like he’s fallen right into some sort of trap.

So right now, MC has a hand up his shirt, showing his cute soft tummy and that tempting line of hair, and he starts to pull down his pants. And Seven still feels trapped. Does MC know he’s being watched? He has to. But what if he doesn’t?

Seven _knows_ what they say about curiosity, but he watches anyway.

He watches MC pull down his pants and show the first few inches of his soft cock, partially shrouded in some kitten-soft, brown pubes. He watches MC pull his cock out, take it in his hand, and stroke the head a little with his thumb, his lips parting and his cheeks flushing.

Before Seven can have any second thoughts about respecting MC’s privacy, MC looks up, stares directly into the lens of the camera, and winks.

Seven thinks he’s going to pass out. All the blood is rushing from his head, and he hates it – like he’s not able to think, like he’s not in control. 

MC uncaps a small bottle and coats his palm in a dime-sized drop, and starts to coat his cock. It must be lube, Seven thinks, the way MC’s hand is now gliding up and down his slowly-stiffening dick, the wet glisten appearing on his shaft. The feed is grainy, so he can’t see much beside the curve of MC’s shaft, the pink of its head as he chokes it hard, and the curls of pubes at the base of his fist. 

There isn’t audio on the CCTV feed. God, if only there were. Seven can only imagine what he would hear; panting, moaning, slick, wet pumps of MC’s hand sliding up and down his cock. Would he hear… his voice? His own _name_?

Selfish. This isn’t for him. MC doesn’t care about Seven. The way he coddles Yoosung in the chat? The way he swoons over Zen? How he’s always supportive and kind to Jaehee, how he takes Elly’s side in every situation to please Jumin? Of course, he’s nice to Seven too, and he’s hilarious, weirdly understanding, smart, and _god_ , look at him now…

Seven is staring at MC’s lips when MC teases his tongue out and licks them wet, and then asks,

_“Luciel, are you watching?”_

It’s a silent question, but there’s no doubt that it’s what he asked. The answer? Oh, yes. He’s watching. He feels like he hasn’t blinked since he first glanced at the feed. 

Seven feels his jeans tightening at the zipper. That must be where all the blood is going. The pressure between his legs is quickly growing uncomfortable, but he can’t bring himself to unzip his fly and relieve the stress. 

He looks up from his lap and back to the screen, and it’s like MC is looking him dead in the eyes. MC’s eyes are half-lidded, his long lashes covering his sight in shadow, a dark contrast to the pinks of his cheeks. His mouth is open and he’s panting. He snakes a free hand up his shirt, showing skin, revealing inch by inch and teasing his nipples for extra stimulation.

Fuck, MC looks so good with his shirt pulled up, showing skin, only the pink head of his cock visible out of his tight fist. He’s going slow, Seven notices. He’s drawing this out, he’s _really_ making a show out of it. Seven almost feels honored.

Seven clenches his fists. The phone is right next to him, on his desk. He could call MC. Hear his voice, the sounds of wet pleasure. Maybe he’d even talk dirty. Maybe he’d hear MC finish. What music that would be!

No, no, no. Seven clenches his fists tighter, and he can feel his palms sweat. He shouldn’t grab the phone. God forbid, that might make MC _stop_.

As MC shifts his tight sack around a little as he strokes his slick shaft, Seven caves and unbuttons his jeans. His cock is already rock hard and almost bursts out once he pushes his pants and boxers to the ground so they bunch around his ankles. He holds his cock in a shaky-hand, relieving just a fraction of the pressure. He can feel it pulsating, begging to be stroked. His lips part and he moans.

God, just simple contact like this, on _himself_ it’s getting him off so well. Being so busy with work, being disallowed outside relationships… he can’t say he’s really enjoyed the touch of someone other than himself. The mere thought of MC being the first, oh, it’s making his head spin.

He has his favorite toy in a nearby drawer, but his eyes are locked to the screen so he fumbles around helplessly with one hand, looking for it. He paws around in the drawer until he finds what looks like an extra-long Dr. Pepper can with the red labelling peeled off. He manages to uncap the device, and avert his eyes for just long enough to make sure everything is in place.

It’s a homemade toy, effectively the same as the sex-in-a-can toys you can get online for wicked expensive. What Seven’s done is bought one of those and modified it into something far better. The polyvinyl chloride-silicone interior is soft and self-lubricating, and it’s tight and shaped like an anal cavity. Seven likes the way it squeezes his cock tight and stimulates what anal sex is probably like. But he’s made it even better – he’s engineered machinery inside the little compact can that turns it into a milking machine. Corded, thick silicone rings milk his dick for him, powered by a little vacuum he installed onto the base. 

The result is a can that’s bulky and pretty loud – he hasn’t gotten around to muffling the sound of the machine yet – but does that really matter when it gives him the best orgasms of his life? The sound of his embarrassing moans and whines usually drown out the sound of the vacuum, anyway.

Seven doesn’t have time to think about any of this when his mind is preoccupied. He fingers the tight opening of the toy to make sure its wet enough to use. It is, so he slips it over his cock.

It creates an instant suction. It pushes down on his balls a bit, making them tender, but he likes that. All he can see when he looks down are his red pubes curling in all directions, covering the rim of the can. As he pushes it down deeper, it feels even better. The inner ridges of the silicone are shaped in curves and waves and the sensation in blindingly amazing.

The can is not even half-way down his cock when he turns his eyes up to watch MC again. He sees pre-come leaking out the tip of MC’s cock in clear, warm beads. MC pauses to bring his fingers to his mouth, licking up the beads of pre-come with his tongue, before returning to his work.

For half a second, Seven catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection on the screen, and shifts his focus out of panic. He feels alone but at the same time he feels like he’s being watched. He thinks about the people who know the passcode to his front door – one person: Vanderwood. They could appear at any time, without warning. 

He likes the feeling. Any second, his door could open, or his phone could ring, or a video chat will open on one of the monitors, and they would see him, and he would _love_ it. Not only would it be an effective “fuck you”, but it’d be pretty hot, to be watched. Clearly, MC thinks so too.

Seven is really starting to get hot. He can feel his cheeks flushed, his blush spreading as far as his chest and ears. Sweat sticks his crimson hair to his forehead. He should have removed his hoodie because he can feel his pits pooling with sweat, sticking shirt to skin. 

The tight suction of the PVC around his cock is more than enough to do it for him, but he’s holding it in. He feels lightheaded. His balls are starting to seize up against his body, like he’s about to come in the device before it’s even been turned on, so he clenches his teeth and lets out a desperate whine in an attempt to hold back.

MC brings his free had to his hair to style it out of his eyes, and the sweaty, tousled look makes him look even hotter. He also looks dangerously close, so there’s no need to hold back any longer.

Just in time, Seven turns on the machine. The rings squeeze his cock in even file from the base of his shaft to the top, and repeat in cycle. His balls are tight and aching; it won’t be long now. He wishes he had installed speed settings, because he wants to come at the same time as MC, but it’s too late. 

MC finishes in his own hand, his face softening in pure pleasure – eyes fluttered close, head thrown back. Seven leans forward, his eyes inches away from the screen, and he can see the come just shooting out of MC’s dick, onto the floor and down his knuckles and hand. He’s left with his own creativity to imagine the sound MC is making, a deep, low whine, the finality of pleasure of it, god, it’s too much.

When Seven comes, it’s in a rush of heat and pleasure. His eyes close in reflex, he whines, and leans forward so his forehead presses against the same screen MC is cleaning up upon. His heart races in his chest long after his climax. He’s left a mess all over his lap and in his hand, and for a moment he just lets the pleasure run through his tired brain.

As he removes the can and sets it aside for cleaning, his body thanks him for the relief. It’s really been a while. Maybe he’ll even be able to sleep tonight.

Seven had only looked away from the screen for a second, but when he looks up he sees MC has gotten to his feet again. He watches MC pick up his phone and open the Messenger app, and Seven waits for a call. He gets none.

MC walks towards the bedroom. Seven’s phone doesn’t ring. MC opens the door to disappear from the feed, but before he does, he turns over his shoulder, gives the camera a grin, and winks.

Seven is starting to wonder if this actually happened. Well, the mess is sure enough real, and so is the pleasure, and so is MC. Seven knows this because his phone dings, and he checks the messenger and sees a simple text from him: a winky-face emoji.

Seven puts the phone down, leans back in his desk chair, and takes a deep breath. What a fucking night. Or – wait, 3AM? It’s day already? MC has disappeared into his room, and Seven is left alone with his thoughts.

Maybe this is one of those things they will forget about overnight, or maybe it’s the start of something new. Seven can never tell the difference.

**Author's Note:**

> requests are open so hmu @subwaywolfy on twitter or subwaywolf on tumblr!!!!!


End file.
